He could not visit her at the theater during her make-up periods or between the acts. He had to skulk about during the performance, dodging Reben, who watched the play from the front and shifted his position from time to time to get various points of view, and overhear what the people said.
Numberless mishaps punctuated the opening performance of “The Woman Pays,” as the play had been relabeled for the sixth time at the eleventh hour. Lines were forgotten and twisted, and characters called out of their names.
In the scene where Eldon was to propose to Sheila and she to accept him, the distraite Sheila, unable to remember a line exactly, gave its general meaning. Unfortunately she used a phrase that was one of Eldon’s cues later on. He answered it mechanically as he had been rehearsed, and then gave Sheila the right cue for the wrong scene. Her memory went on from there and she heard herself accepting Eldon before he had proposed. He realized the blunder at the same time.
They paused, stared, hesitated, wondering how to get back to the starting-point, and improvised desperately while the prompter stood helpless in the wings, not knowing where to throw what line. Reben swore silently and perspired. The audience blamed itself for its bewilderment.
But even amid such confusion Sheila was fascinating. There was no doubt of that. When she appeared the spectators sat forward, the whole face of the house beamed and smiled “welcome” with instant hospitality. Reben recognized the mysterious power and told Starr Coleman and the house-manager that Kemble was a gold-mine.
Bret felt his heart go out to the brave, pretty thing she was up there, sparkling and glowing and making people happy. He was proud that she belonged to him. He felt sorry for the public because it had to lose her. But he was not the public’s keeper. He was glad he had made her cut out that embrace with Eldon—both of the embraces.
The last curtain fell just before the lovers moved into each other’s open arms. This was the “artistic” effect that Sheila had persuaded Reben to try. Even Bret felt a lurch of disappointment in the audience. There was applause, but the rising curtain disclosed the actors bowing. There was something wanting. Bret would have regretted it himself if he had not been the husband of the star.
He was aching with impatience to see her and tell her how wonderful she was. He did not dare go back on the stage, lest his presence in Grand Rapids should require explaining. He must wait in the alley—he, the owner of the star, must wait in the alley!
He hated the humiliation of his position, and thanked Heaven that after this season Sheila would be at home with him. He hoped that it would not take her long to slip into her street clothes.
He was the more eager to see her as he had prepared a little banquet in their rooms. In his over-abundant leisure he had bought a chafing-dish and the other things necessary to a supper. Everything was set out, ready. He chuckled as he trudged up and down the alley and pictured Sheila’s delight, and the cozy housewifeliness of her as she should light the lamp and stir the chafing-dish. They would begin very light housekeeping at once, with never a servant to mar their communion.